


Fluffy Masseuse

by brotherfuckers



Series: Striderclan [41]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Aftercare, Comfort, Gen, Massage, Sweetness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-26
Updated: 2013-09-26
Packaged: 2017-12-27 10:42:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/977816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brotherfuckers/pseuds/brotherfuckers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave takes his role as family caretaker seriously especially for his older brother/snuggle buddy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fluffy Masseuse

Bro is setting up for a gig at a club about a mile and a half away when Dave and Dirk get home after a late day of hanging out with friends and finishing homework. Dirk only spares D a glance before going into his bedroom. Dave takes the moment to study D.

He’s sleeping on his stomach again. He has one hand up near his mouth and the other is up over his head with a handcuff attached but the second cuff isn’t connected to anything. His back has long, red, scratch marks--probably from teasing. There are bite marks all over his shoulders and four red claw mark going over them. He has a sated smile, even in his sleep, and it’s then that Dave notices the angry mark on his free wrist. It’s not deep enough to leave a bruise to last more than a  few days, but it’ll still be a little blue in the morning.

Dave leaves D in his boxers, laying on the side of the futon that would normally be the back of the couch. Dave tosses his bag on his bed and goes to his desk. He digs around in one of the dirtier drawers until he finds a tube of body lotion.

“Your chest bothering you?” Dirk asks.

Dave shakes his head. “Going to go give D a massage. He had it rough.”

Dirk nods his head as he goes back to logging into his laptop. D, in the meantime, has shifted the arm that had been above his head to his his side. Dave leaves the lotion on the futon as he works free the handcuff from his remaining wrist. Dave rubs the lotion into the skin on his wrists before leaving them alone.

Dave straddles D’s butt, but he supports most of his weight on his knees, which rest on the futon to either side of D. He rubs lotion into his hands until they feel soft and just a little bit slick, then he gently trails his hands over D’s back. D hums in his sleep, wriggling so slightly that Dave wouldn’t have been able to tell if he hadn’t been on him.

He starts at D’s sides with the lotion. He rubs it in, smirking only slightly when he sees D’s eyes slip open. Dave coaxes the other arm down and kisses the back of D’s neck when he lets him.

The first amount of pressure he applies is to D’s lower back. D groans, pushing his waist up to him immediately. Dave teases with his fingertips, spreading out toward the edges before the slightest pressure from the heel of his hands is applied. He presses downward, toward his sides. D hums as his eyes slip shut again.

Squeezing slightly, Dave starts a petrissage motion leading off of either side of D’s lumbar. He can feel how the hours of hunched sitting as D edited one manuscript after the next have built up in his lower back. In a steady semi-circular pattern, Dave works the superficial knots out, grinning when he feels one of them pop right beneath his fingers. D groans openly at the feeling. He can feel the muscles warm under his hands and Dave presses just a little harder, pressing deeper. It only takes six passes before he realizes that D has started holding his breath.

“Breathe.”

It’s shaky and jittery, but D lets it out at the same time Dave coaxes out the last bit of the second knot in his muscle. The breath becomes a groan and Dave kisses the nape of D’s neck. D presses against him sleepily.

Dave moves onto the other half of D’s lower back. There are three superficial knots that D groans in time for two of them, but on the third one his breathing hitches. Dave whispers in his ear, telling him to breathe. What he gets is a pained groan as D attempts to comply. Dave presses more, reminds him to breathe, and at last D gasps in a deep breath. It’s deep enough that Dave continues for two strokes before he has to remind him to breathe out. It’s as he breathes out that Dave works the muscle until the knot disappears. D groans spectacularly.

“Holy fuck D, you need to stretch more when you’re in the middle of writing.”

“Uhhuh,” he whispers into the futon, “yeah, sure, uhnng, whatever you say, li’l bro....”

Dave places one hand over the other and slides pressure up the side of D’s spine. He shudders and his neck lifts up, pressing into the motion. Dave does it again, much slower. The muscles give underneath his fingertips and he smiles briefly when he sees D’s fingers twitch. Dave presses his thumbs into the sides of D’s spine, carefully following the length of it until he could trail them off of his back. D moans loud enough to give a porn star a run for her money.

His hands press into his side again, pressing hard enough to find the old knots, and he gently rolls them back and forth. D’s body rocks with his hands. Dave trades fingers for his thumbs, rolling them and uses the heels of his hands after that. D melts into him, letting out a moan that could just as easily be classified as a hum.

Dave follows D’s back up over his shoulders. He caresses the sides of D’s neck with his hands. It only takes a few light presses, barely even worthy of being called a tug, and he pushes the pillows off the futon while asking him to put his arms up so that his arms are bent at the elbow and hands are toward his head.

He puts more lotion on D’s back before starting on his shoulders. Using his thumbs, Dave spreads open D’s trapeziuses, all the while being careful because of the bend in his neck. D lets out an appreciative sound. Dave glides down along the spine with his thumbs, goes back to the shoulders, and repeats a little farther away, toward the middle of the muscle. Again, a little further.

When he moves onto D’s arms, Dave has to put more lotion on his hands. In the time it takes to do that, D cracks an eye up at him and smiles. Dave leans over as best as he can and D leans up into him, kissing him effectively. Dave trails away from his lips, kissing down his jaw and neck until his lips barely brush the lotion on his back. D chuckles at him.

Dave starts at the shoulder, working from the edge of the shoulder blade and rolling the muscles out toward the arms. He slides his hands around his back, slipping along the edges of the muscles as best as he can until he ends up with two thumbs at D’s sacrum with the older man sounding like a two-cent whore having a good time.

He finishes with a simple brushing motion that leaves D making a noise Dave would venture far enough to say it sounds like a purr. He scoots down farther until he is straddling D’s ankles, then thinks better of it and moves off to the side of his legs. He does the same petrissage motion along D’s hamstrings and calves. Dave pulls away long enough to tuck his hand under D’s hip and roll him onto his back. He picks up D’s sword-fighting and writing arm. He does the same shoulder-wrist pull-massage to relax the muscle, rolling it under his thumbs in small, circular motions when he finishes. He works his wrist carefully, stretching and rolling it in the ways to make him groan.

Dave works every inch of D’s sore muscles under his skilled hands. All the while, D barely stares up at him with a sleepy grin and half-lidded eyes that follow his every movement. They don’t say anything for the majority of the massage, aside from D’s muffled groans and moans and the few times Dave has to remind him to breathe.

D pulls him down into his arms before he can move far enough away to massage his feet. Dave lays there for a moment, listening to D’s purring-hums, before he tilts his head up and kisses D’s jawline. D nuzzles into his head, rolling onto his side and wrapping his sleep-dulled, gangly arms around Dave’s body. Dave has to throw him a bone and curl into his chest in order for D to stop his mewling protests when he finds that he can’t quite flex his muscles enough to pull him close. He can, however, squeeze Dave in and prevent him from leaving.

“The fuck did you do?” Dave asks.

D snorts and grins as he kisses Dave’s forehead. “Mmmm, don’t remember. Said some stupid joke and he got excited.” He pauses as he yawns. Dave wonders when in the last eight hours he learned enough manners to not talk and yawn at the same time. Usually the guy just barrels on through, considering he’s so used to working on tight schedules. No one has time to sleep these days. “So fucking worth it.”

“Idiot.”

“Tak’a nap wit’ me.”

“I have homework.”

“You should prolly do z’at.” Despite saying this, his arms tighten around him and prevent Dave from moving far enough to get away. “What day is it, again?”

“...Friday.”

“Tomorrow. Do it tomorrow.”

Dave sighs and nuzzles into his chest when he thinks D isn’t looking. D hums again, purring quietly. “How was school?”

“The usual. Just school. Won the debate in my government class.”

“G’job.”

“Rocked the shit outta it.”

“Had any doubt? Waz it ‘bout, ‘gain? Raising minimum wage or some shit?”

“Yeah. I was against it. It was a Lincoln-Douglas against a fucking moron. Nothing to sweat.”

“Comes from y’or moth’a’.” He sniffles slightly, nuzzling further into Dave’s hair as he falls further into his interrupted slumber. “Sh’went t’nationals. Got like, fifth place or some shit.”

“You went, too, didn’t you?”

“Took fourth. Was awesome. Up against a ton of college kids too.”

“What’s two plus two?”

“Don’ m’ke me do ma’ you li’le shit. M’sleeping.”

“You’re talking out your ass is what you’re doing.”

“Were you nominated to go?”

“I’ll tell you when you wake up.”

“M’kay.”

Dirk walks out of their room five minutes later. He pauses on the threshold of the hallway, grins and pulls his phone out of his pocket. He snaps a picture with the volume at full just to make sure Dave hears Hal’s automated voice say “are you even looking you piece of shit?” The two of them had programmed it into his phone one lazy afternoon and it never fails to make D laugh. As asleep as he is, though, he doesn’t hear the snap, but Dave flips him off for good measure. For D’s sake, obviously. Why wouldn’t he defend his poor, helpless older brother while he’s asleep and would never know about the picture in any way, shape or form?

Dirk goes back to their room with a bottle of orange soda. The ringer he has set for Bro’s text messages plays as he opens the door and Dave distinctly hears his twin snicker as the door shuts.

 

**Author's Note:**

> For more information please check out our work at striderclan.tumblr.com; we have more stories, head canons, art/pictures.


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